


Devil Engine

by esama



Category: Castlevania (TV), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sewers, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: Trevor never makes it to Gresit - he falls instead through the sewers into Alucard's keep.





	Devil Engine

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed

Trevor has done some unspeakably foul things in his life. Killed monsters, sure, even dissected their remains for study. He's killed people, some for good reason, and some not so much. He's stolen, he's extorted, even kidnapped a guy once though that was mostly by accident really – and it had gotten him to the guy's werewolf sister, yes, but kidnapping is kidnapping. And he's wallowed in sin and filth, both literal and metaphorical.

Crawling through a sewer isn't exactly new to him – but usually it was because there was something down there he needs to kill. Somehow, the fact that his belly is trying to eat its way through his body and he could eat anything right now, mouldy bread, rat bitten cheese, fucking anything, makes it so much worse.

Shit has never smelled quite so fucking _visceral_ and it's not even putting him off his appetite which just makes it so much worse. Jesus Christ, humans produce some disgusting fucking shit.

Trying not to breathe too deeply, Trevor grips his cloak hem tighter and inches his way inside, carefully keeping away from the sludge just under him. Thankfully the pipe is slightly rounded, and he can sort of crab his way on the side but – ugh, even the sides are grimy with something unspeakable.

It would be worth it. Just get inside and away from the sewer and find something, anything, to eat. Just... keep going. It would be worth it. God he hopes it would be worth it.

Under his foot, a stone shifts.

Trevor freezes, clamping palms on the walls to keep himself steady in case the stone is about to give away under him and send him into the puddle of crap under him. He looks down and watches as the smooth stone under his right foot just sort of tilts inward, coming loose from the mortar.

"Fucking fantastic construction." Trevor mutters and inches his foot onto another stone, slightly sturdier looking one. "Just keep going..."

The next stone doesn't shift under his foot.

It's just fucking drops.

Yelping in alarm, Trevor's fingers scratch painful against the stone floor as he sinks, knee deep, into the hole – and the moment the back of his thigh hits the floor, the stone under it comes loose as well.

And then Trevor's falling through the sewer floor and into a black abyss under it, his fingers scraped almost bloody against the sides as he tries to find a hand hold, but can't, there's nothing. For a moment he is in free fall, surrounded by literally shitty rocks raining down from above. What the hell is it, a fucking cave? Who the hell build a city over caves –

Then he hits the floor, landing with a jarring thud on his feet and almost falling to his knees. Failing a bit to keep his balance, Trevor almost gets brained with a falling rock and then hurriedly rolls out of the way as more stone rain down on him – stone and _worse_ things, wet things, that splatter on the unseen floor with disgusting, moist splats.

"Oh god," Trevor groans and gags. He can't see a fucking thing but he can smell it – he can imagine it. And, worse yet, he can feel it. Something wet right on top of his hair, sliding down. "Oh – Jesus –"

He barely manages to stumble away from under the fucking shit rain before his stomach's aching complaints become too urgent to ignore – and what little he has in his belly spews out his throat and into his mouth. It's not really enough to be called vomit – but fucking Christ, it doesn't improve the smell a bit.

Trevor hacks and coughs the stomach acid off his lips and groans. Well, at least he's not hungry anymore, he thinks and weakly pats at his waist in search of a water skin – except it's not there, he lost it days ago. Fuck.

So now he's starving, sick, covered in shit, and fucking stranded in... Whatever the fucking place this is. Great.

"One of these days, God, could you please stop fucking shitting on my life?" Trevor groans and wipes at his lips. He shudders with nausea and looks up. Something wet splatters in the darkness. "Literally in this case. Ugh."

He can't even see where he'd fallen, it's so fucking dark. Wonderful.

"Shit," Trevor mutters and rummages through his pockets. He'd swiped a candle from a tavern not long ago, and luck has it still has a little stub of it left, just enough to burn his fingers on it. It takes bit longer him to find his even smaller stub of a flint and then it's all fun finger cutting fiddling to make a spark with his knife and get it anywhere near the fucking candle.

One of these days, he'll find a proper tinder box – and steal it.

"You dog humping son of a – light, you bastard," Trevor mutters, glaring at the candle in the momentary sparks of flint on steel and then almost slices his thumb off. "Fucking – there!"

The spark catches the candle wick and Trevor coaxes it into proper flame by some careful blowing to heat the spark right up. The flame flickers and then catches and with a sigh Trevor puts his knife and flint away, and looks around.

The ground under him is stone – not carve stone, but cut stone. Actual floor tiles. It's not a cave – it's a room, no, a corridor and a high and fancy one at that. A catacomb? No, it's too grandiose.

"What the shit," Trevor mutters, getting up to his feet and carefully holding the candle up. The ceiling is so high up he can't even see it in the candle light, and there is no sign of the hole he fell through. Even if there was, he doubts he could've climbed up there – the walls are pretty damn smooth.

"Wonderful," Trevor mutters and then shudders as something wet slides down the back of his neck. "Ugh," he mutters and tries to get it off his skin and hair – but it's pretty much everywhere now. "Great, just fucking great."

With a groan he glances forward and back along the corridor and then picks a direction in random. If he'd be lucky maybe he'd find an actual sewer with water somewhere down here. And then fucking _drown_ himself in it.

* * *

 

He doesn't find a proper sewer with water.

He finds fucking ghouls.

"This is turning out better every fucking moment," he mutters, setting the candle down and grabbing his whip. They aren't even strong looking ghouls. These are rotten, green, shambling things, dead so long ago that they're almost falling apart as he watches them. They stumble around aimlessly, back and forward, black and forward.

"Hmm," Trevor hums with suspicion and uncoils the whip. Then he steps down from the stairs he's on and onto the floor the ghouls are shambling around in.

Immediately they turn to him and start shambling, slowly, his way.

"Come one, come all, I have a rip roaring party waiting just for you," Trevor says to them and cracks the whip. "Come on."

The first ghoul to reach him doesn't even try to attack him. It has no weapons, shows no hostile moves – actually it kind of looks like it wants to walk right through him. The perfect example of a lowest common ghoul.

Still, the fact that they are coming for him now means they have orders. They might not be able to actually attack a person, but they've still been ordered to. That's interesting.

Trevor spits their way and then lashes his whip. One blow, not even a strong one, and the thing freezes and then bursts into fire from inside. The next one, hilariously, walks into Trevor's whip and then does the same, blowing itself into pieces from inside.

"Are you kidding me," Trevor mutters flatly and then, curiously, waves the whip lazily so that the tail forms an arch on the floor around him.

The ghouls walk a right into it – and die, one after the other, lighting the whole room with their sad little death flames.

"Right," Trevor says, staring at the pile of ghoul remains. They're still burning where they're touching the whip, but they're definitely not moving anymore. "Well that was... bit of a let down really."

Something good comes out of it, though. In the light of their smouldering remains, he can see unlit torches on the walls – a definite, if smelly, step up from his little candle stub.

* * *

 

"Why are there so many fucking bats – god – damnit!" Trevor grows, lashing out with his whip at yet another fucking flying rodent. They seem to come out from fucking nowhere – and of course, they come straight at him. It takes just one touch with the whip to kill them, so definitely not natural, but god _damn_.

As far as defences go, this place is more annoying than threatening. Weak ghouls and evil bats – Trevor's been to taverns more lethal than this. What next, skeletons throwing their own bones at him?

"You're kidding me," Trevor says, as he enters into a fucking tower of an underground chamber. It seems to have no stairs, just the occasional platform here and there serving who the fuck even knows what purpose – and on those platforms, there are skeletons.

Which are throwing their bones at him.

"Hi there, my boney friend," Trevor says to the skeleton, side stepping the rib it threw at him. "I know you have less brains than the average rat, but you do realise that –" The skeleton grabs the bone of it's upper arm and throws it at Trevor, as the rest of the bones of the said arm fall and scatter on the floor. The hand bones go every which way like pearls with their string cut. "Yeah, as I was about to say..."

Bit by bit, the skeleton takes itself apart, throwing ribs and collar bones at Trevor as he avoids them deftly, throwing its jaw at him before going for its own spine – and then it crumbles into nothing on the platform above, and it's skeletal support gone.

"Alright then," Trevor sighs and kicks the pile of discarded human ribs off the platform he's standing on. Then he takes few starting steps and jumps onto the platform, where the skeleton had oh so valiantly given its skeletal existence in order to shower him in bones. "This place is a joke," Trevor mutters and something hits him and he almost stumbles back and off the platform entirely.

There's another skeleton on the next platform – and it just threw a rib at his head.

"Okay, fuck this," Trevor mutters and uncoils his whip.

* * *

 

So, there are mindless ghouls that die at slightest touch of the whip, bats that are more pests than anything else, there are skeletons that literally take themselves apart if you wait long enough – and then there is a magical fucking armours that throws fucking axes. Magical flying axes.

"What," Trevor says flatly.

The armour kneels and throws its axe at him. Trevor ducks under it and watches with flat disbelief as the axe whirls slowly through the air in perfectly straight line, never in any danger of actually touching him, and then it goes back. The armour then catches the axe and then throws it again – in the exact same way, in exact same perfect line. And then again. And again.

Trevor watches it happen for a little while, just to see if any variation happens. But no, it just does the same useless thing, over and over. Alright then.

"How about you just keep on doing what you do, and I just... move right along," Trevor says to the armour. "That sound good to you?"

The armour throws it axe again, slowly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Trevor mutters and then jumps ahead before the axe has even gotten to finish its throw arc. "You're doing great job, just keep at it," Trevor says to the armour – and then almost gets an axe to the head from the second armour little higher up. "Oh for god's sake!"

* * *

 

At some point, the stone corridors and strange underground towers give away to something much more interesting – and far more suspicious. The air warms, the sconces get more plentiful and on every torch he encounters there is fresh oil, as if someone had just gone around, refreshing their stores. There metal poles against walls that feel hot to the touch – pipes, with hot water going through them.

Then a strange chandelier lights up right in front of him. It happens so suddenly that Trevor automatically lashes out with his whip, expecting another skeleton or ghoul or even one of the enchanted armours.

The chandelier shatters with a sound that's more like broken glass – and then Trevor is left staring at something that fell from the thing.

"What the..." he mutters and picks the thing up. It looks like locker medallion, but there's some sort of... mechanism on it. It has pointing hands on it, going around a dial – a... clock? Except for some reason it has numbers on it. What the hell?

Scowling, Trevor lifts the thing into his ear. Nothing, so if it's a mechanism, it's not making any noises, probably isn't working. There is a switch on it though, and after some thought Trevor presses it somewhat dubiously

The little device immediately starts ticking – and the hands move, rapidly, down the dial. 10, 9, 8, all the way down to 1, and then it goes back silent.

Trevor blinks, and clicks the thing again. Again, it clicks back from 10 to one, and then goes silent.

So it... counts back ten seconds. Very useful.

Shaking his head, Trevor turns to continue on, clicking the clicking the weird device idly as he goes. Well it makes for slightly more interesting listening than his belly, pitifully growling for a breakfast he's probably never going to get again.

* * *

 

Trevor clicks the button and as the little clock starts ticking he watches in fascination how the skeleton stops in middle of throwing its sternum at him. Trevor clicks the button and it pops up, and then sternum goes flying into air. He presses the button down again, and the sternum freezes mid air.

"Holy shit," Trevor says and looks at the watch as it rapidly starts ticking down from ten. The thing stops time. The fucking thing actually stops time. Holy fuck.

So many situations he could've used this thing. So many fights he could've won. So many kicks in the teeth he could've stopped in their tracks. Trevor whistles. It's a literal devil engine found in the bowels of ghoul infested fucking catacomb, but god _damn_. "If I wasn't about to starve to death, this damn thing would change my life."

Then he gets hit in the face by a flying sternum.

* * *

 

Trevor isn't sure how long he's been lost in the catacombs under Gresit. It's been hours at least, maybe even a day. He's almost gotten used to the candles that light themselves and the weird, unnatural warmth of the place even though he's probably even deeper underground now.

He's hungry, thirsty, he has a head ache, and he's pretty sure he's going to die down here

So really, world could stop throwing shit at him right about now.

"A skeleton demon warrior," Trevor says to the approximate direction of the sky. "A skeleton... demon... warrior."

The demon skeleton, with horns and vaguely draconian skull, waves its sword and shield at him threateningly.

"I just wanted some breakfast," Trevor bemoans – and then has to jump back as the skeleton demon warrior – seriously – lashes its sword at him. Muttering curses, Trevor grabs his whip and then lashes out at the demon while going for the devil engine in his pocket.

The skeleton demon warrior doesn't burst into flames, sadly skeletons don't do that, but it freezes, just for a moment, when the whip touches it. Blinking, Trevor lashes out again, quickly. Again the skeleton freezes, just for a moment.

So Trevor just lays on it, lashing out with his whip continuously, keeping the sword wielding demon skeleton locked in place by – magic? Power of the holy? Hell if he knows what it is, but it works and he doesn't even need the devil engine to do it. So he keeps doing it.

Trevor stares as the skeleton finally falls apart, busts into flames and then disappears into the fucking aether. It doesn't even leave its shield or sword behind – they all disappear. An illusion?

Shit, is everything here an illusion? The bats, the skeletons that literally pick their own bones apart, the fucking ghouls?

"Oh god," Trevor mutters and covers his eyes for a moment in his hands, laughing helplessly, hopelessly into his palms.

This fucking place is going to drive him insane before it would drive him to his early grave, he just knows.

* * *

 

So he tests it. There is a room with three chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, two self lighting candle holders, and a candelabrum just to top it off – he destroys all of them, and the skeletons in the room as well, not waiting for them to do it to themselves this time. Then he leaves the room – and then turns around on his heel and goes back.

And everything is back in it s place again. The chandeliers he ripped off the ceiling are back up there, their candles lit bright blue. The candle holders are back in their place as well. Even the candelabrum is there. And of course the skeletons are there too.

Nothing he's doing is having an actual permanent effect on this place. Everything goes back the moment he turns his back – skeletons turn back whole, the magical armours assemble themselves, the bats appear from fucking nowhere – and the furniture just appears back as if he hadn't just whipped it out of fucking existence.

The whole place is covered in illusions. He's not even sure if the rooms are the same when he passes through them – maybe they change when everything is spelled back together again? No fucking wonder he's completely lost.

It kind of takes the fun out destroying the candles though. What's the point, when they go back to normal again?

"You've taken away the last joy I had left in life," Trevor grumbles at the keep and puts his whip away. "Damn you."

* * *

 

When Trevor stumbles into a room with a coffin in it, he doesn't really make much of a note of it at first. He's too hungry to really care beyond making sure there are no skeletons, ghouls or whatever around. Some rooms are empty of enemies, and this looks like one of them.

"Well at least that would've been a distraction," Trevor sighs and runs hands through his filthy hair. He's starting to feel a little dizzy now. No water, no food, no nothing – and not a hint of way out. It feels like he's just keeps going on circles – this is the first new room he's seen in a long while, and there's nothing there. Except few more candles he could maybe break, some fancy carpeting and the fucking coffin.

Sighing, Trevor sits down on fancy red carpet, staring at the room listlessly. It has a fucking stage and stands on the edges and everything – it's build like a goddamn throne room, except with a coffin where the throne would've been.

"Ugh," Trevor sighs and then throws himself down, stretching out on the fancy carpet with his cloak spreading out all around him. It's not much of a cushion and he'll probably leave a stain there, but what ever. "As good a place as any to die," he mutters and shifts to cushion his head with his arms.

And under his crossed wrists a stone under the carpet gives away – not like it collapses, but like a trap, being triggered. Immediately there is an enormous click that echoes in the hall and Trevor can hear mechanisms grinding as something rises.

Trevor glares at the dark ceiling above him listlessly while there is a sharp hiss of air and then there's sound of stone grinding – and then something very heavy falling and clattering against the stone floor.

Trevor inhales, closes his eyes and sighs – and then sits up with a groan. "I'm too fucking hungry for this," he mutters and then looks up.

The coffin is higher up now – propped up by some sort of mechanisms under it. Above it is... a half naked man hanging in the air, holding onto his scarred chest while his long blond hair hangs over him. He looks like he's asleep.

Trevor props up a knee, leans his elbow onto it, and then leans his cheek onto his knuckles and looks at the half naked man up and down. Ethereally pretty, floating and came from a coffin... "A vampire," he says. "A fucking vampire. Of course it is."

The vampire looks up. He looks like he's about to speak but then stops, staring at Trevor in confusion. He lifts his head, and then makes a face. "What is that smell?" the vampire asks roughly.

"Shit," Trevor answers flatly.

The vampire's nose scrunches up. "Why, exactly, do you smell like shit?"

"Because your keep is shit," Trevor says tiredly. "And I'm fucking done with this shit."

The vampire frowns at him, looking him up and down. "You... did not come here intentionally, did you?"

"What do you think? I fell through a sewer," Trevor says and cracks his neck. He's swaying a little on his feet, but fuck it – he knows how this goes now. "Nothing intentional about it."

The vampire tilts his head a little and then floats down, to stand in front of the coffin. "You came here through this keep?" he asks. "And you survived?"

"... Demonstrably," Trevor scoffs and looks at him. "You made this place?"

"Hmm," the vampire agrees, looking him up and down. His eyes linger for a moment on the hilt of Trevor's sword, on the coil of his whip. "You made through all of my defences and you're not even injured. Tell me, are you a hunter?"

Trevor takes a breath and then looks at him. "Why?" he asks suspiciously.

"It would take nothing less," the vampire says and rests a hand on his half bare hip. "To get through my defences you would have to be experienced with such things... or in possession of a weapon," he says and looks down at the whip, "that destroys evil."

Trevor frowns at that, his hand automatically going for his whip. "Well," he says and then scowls.

"What is your name?" the vampire asks, taking an interested step closer – and then stopping and making a disgusted face.

Ah, vampires – sensitive noses. Trevor snorts at him. "Trevor Belmont – though no, I'm not a hunter," he says and releases his hold on the whip. "I'm out of business."

"A Belmont," the vampire says, even as he not so surreptitiously covers his nose with his hand. "Of the house of Belmont?"

"No house left, therefore, no family business left," Trevor says with a shrug. "You could say I'm forcibly retired."

The vampire frowns. "Belmonts have fought creatures of the night for generations," he says slowly.

"Well that was before our excommunication by fire," Trevor scoffs. "I'm the last son of the house of Belmont – and I don't really care."

"I see," the vampire answers and looks him up and down over his hand.

"So," Trevor says, rocking on the balls of feet a little – and not so casually waving the hem of his cloak a he does, just wafting the stench about. "Going to try and eat me?"

The vampire makes a disgusted face at him and shakes his head. "I'd rather you just have a bath," he says and motions. "Fifth door on the right, down the stairs and then second door left."

"What?" Trevor asks.

"That's where the baths are," the vampire says impatiently. "Feel free to make liberal use of them."

Trevor stares at him. "... just so that you can have a clean meal?" he asks slowly.

"So that you will stop stinking up my keep, Belmont," the vampire says and turns to pick up something from his coffin – a white shirt. "You are not the one I am waiting for and I do not care what you do – but please, have a bath."

For a moment Trevor just stares at him. "Okay then," he says because – fuck it. He'd like a bath. He'd like some food more, but he's more likely to _be_ the food here, so, better not risk it. "I... thanks?"

"Please just go," the vampire sighs.

Trevor goes.

**Author's Note:**

> idk but fuck it.


End file.
